Witch's Blood
by Anan-sama
Summary: Christian has wondered over the earth for the last hundred and fifty years, feeding off innocents until one cursed him. Now, his survivial depends on those who will feed him willing, and the curse needs a witch, in love, to feed him willingly.


"_**Nature has her proper interest; and he will know**__  
__**what it is, who believes and feels, that every Thing**__  
__**has a Life of its own, and that we are all one Life."  
– Samuel Taylor Coleridge**_

Prologue

*********

**September 19, about 1:45 am**

**Death to all Humanity  
The Ever-Lasting plague  
No moral sin can ever again  
Cause my plight to stay.**

**Death to Humanity  
No longer is the need  
For unheeded pleas  
For clothes and food  
To children lay dying in the streets.**

**Death to Humanity  
A plague upon the lives  
For death is ever-lasting  
At last I can close my weary eyes.**

Her sea-green eyes wandered over the words that now lit her journal entry. There was something there, something that was even drearier than she had ever thought of before. The thoughts that had plagued her dreams awoke her from her slumbering dreams and beliefs in happiness, becoming her handiwork, this unearthly thing, in her journal.

* * *

**The cool breeze from the slight opening of her window ruffled her russet hair, hanging limply from the ponytail it originated in. The Autumn Equinox was close at hand, you could smell it on the breeze. _I wish Gram was still here to teach me everything that I need to know before my initiation._ Aina thought to herself as she fingered the tendril that flowed in front of her face. Reaching up, she took her hair out of the ponytail, ran her fingers through the mess before braiding it before she tried to sleep the rest of the night. She lay down upon her midnight comforter, seeking peace from the thoughts that would not leave her alone. What seemed like hours of tossing and turning was in reality only minutes of restlessness, finally she grabbed her journal from the nightstand. Turning away from the dreary poem that filled her page before, Aina's seamless script flowed out onto the page below her.**

**I don't know what is going on lately, it's like there is something out there, something that means to devour me. I don't know why I just wrote that. I know that I shouldn't put such faith in these unnatural feelings, but I just feel like there is something that Gram forgot to tell me before her accident. There is something dark out there that has teeth and those teeth want to sink into my flesh and never release me from its grasp. Again, there is that dark feeling that makes me write things that make no sense.**

**I wish I could find Gram's grimoire, I know the answer to my questions, and especially the answer to these feelings is in that book. She had everything that I could ever think of in that book, even stuff I didn't know about was in there, grandmother would always turn the pages as quickly as she could when it came to stuff she didn't want me to see. I wish that I could shake these feelings that there is something out there that means me harm; it's disturbing my sleep and my piece of mind.**

**Although, I can't say it's just these feelings, if I am truly honest with myself I would say a lot of it is from Gram's death. I still can't believe that she is gone. She was everything to me since dad dead and mom ran off; she has been everything to me and Eason. Now we are living with Uncle Nicholas, and he has no sense of humor or faith like grandmother use to have. He has nothing like Gram; I don't even know how he could even be related to Gram. **

**He is so strait-laced and somewhat of a stuffed shirt, I mean I know he is a doctor and everything but you would think that he would be happy once in a while. I don't think that I've seen him smile once in my entire lifetime, grandmother smiled more in a day than he has in the last three months. Again, I drift off, so many thoughts in my head.**

**Just thinking about Gram's smile make me think of all the times when I was young, just after mom ran off, that grandmother would tell me about the greatest that the Mother sees in all of life. Especially that time that grandmother let me sit in her lap and she would tell me all about the Summerland and how the Goddess created the world so that all the energy patterns were interwoven, that we were all apart of each other. **

**Even the smallest thing was an energy pattern that we were interwoven with, whether it had intention pure or evil, it still was apart of the greater good. It's like a tree, the roots are connected to the earth, giving it balance and support, the tree branches are reaching towards the heavens, always touching air, getting life through the tips and connecting to everything that breathes. **

**The tree is supported by water to live and lives through the fire that only a living thing can feel. Every Sabbat was a time of celebration in the house it was a time of great joy for we celebrated the Goddess and Her Consort in every way. It was just like when Gram use to tell me the stories, except we celebrated by making the bread for the Goddess, or other small things that grandmother would need in her rituals. Gram taught me many things growing up, but she never let me complete the Sabbats with her and now I have to figure out how to do it by myself. **

**I really wish I could find the grimoire; it has to be around the house somewhere. Now that the Autumn Equinox is upon us, the time of equation; and yet, I don't feel very equal at all. I have to celebrate the last dance of the god as he goes into the womb of the goddess to give the earth it's time of silence. Silence, there is a lot of silence in the house now, everything is so hard now without Gram around…**

**Eason is acting unusual, staying out all hours of the night and he doesn't even talk to me anymore. So much for twins always being able to talk and all that other close stuff that people are always talking about, we aren't even somewhat close anymore. We barely say hi to each other in the morning. Uncle Nicholas doesn't even see that Eason is pulling away; he is always at work or on call for another surgery. The house is always empty anymore; at least we didn't have to leave the house that we grew up in, our grandmother's home. But it doesn't change the fact that no one wants to be around and my own brother doesn't even want to talk to me.**

**There is just so much going on anymore that I don't know how to think about it all, my head feels like it's been put on fire with everything that is trying to get my attention and hold it. I don't know, I just wish these dreadful feelings would go away, that my brother would talk to me like we use to talk; most of all, I wish that Gram was still here.**

* * *

She looked up from her journal to the clock beside her bed, 03:15 the clock read. O_h Jesus, I can't believe that I stayed up this late writing. Now I'll probably fall asleep in class today. I'm not tired now though._ She thought to herself as she closed the purple book, standing up from the bed. Walking to the window, Aina looked out into the empty street below. The street lamp played a dance upon the cement and blacktop of the street. Shadows drifted across the light every once in a while, it was like watching a ballet of light and darkness. _Everywhere I look I see the balance of light and darkness that the __Autumn Equinox represents._ The night air blew across her cheek, a caress of sweet nothingness. The chill was still in the air, but for what reason, Aina was still unaware.

Closing her window the rest of the way, Aina sighed as she looked at her rumpled bed. _Well, there is no point in fighting it any longer, if I don't try to sleep then I'll just have myself to blame for it._ She thought as she pulled her dark blue and majestic purple curtains close. She walked to her bed, the sway of her hips making light of her tiredness, showing the flexibility and strength of her gymnastics' body. As she sat down softly on the edge of her bed, she grabbed the journal from where she had last placed it at the foot of her bed.

Looking at the plain purple cover, she smiled it was the last birthday present that Gram had given her. _Gram always said to write everything down that I feel, no matter what the cost, because that is what a true Wiccan does._ She brought the book up to her lips and kissed it softly before turning and opening her nightstand. Placing the book in the back of the drawer, she closed the stand before bringing her legs up from the floor. Grabbing her midnight comforter, she pulled it over her pajama bottoms and pulled it close to her face as she turned to the side. She closed her sea-green eyes as she pictured her Gram smiling as she made the bread for the Goddess. Aina smiled as the peaceful images of her grandmother showed her that even in death Aina would never feel truly alone.

*****

The tall shadow walked the forest late at night, looking for signs of the prey he hunted. Small scuttling sounds ran across his high sense of hearing. _It's towards the left, I wonder if this one will let me feed._ He ran towards the sound, the smell of the rabbit's blood sang through him; the musky, delectable scent of sage and carrot root that was the animal's blood made his fangs drop deplorable. How his fangs could disgust him never ceased to amaze him, even after the many years he had lived, all the pain he had been through, his teeth still made him feel despicable.

He slowed as the pounding of her heart filled his ears. He halted as the rabbit looked directly at him. "Please, I beg of you, friend of the wild let me feed and be free this night." He asked of her as he leaned down upon a knee in the dirt ground beneath him.

She twitched her head quizzical as she looked at the tall man leaning down by her, the small nose wiggling as though the young animal was thinking about the question he had posed. Slowly, she walked towards the skeleton-like man, the small hopping of her feet ceased as she sat in front of the icy blonde man's knees. Christian sent a small pray of thanks to whatever god had given him his dinner tonight. He picked up the rabbit gently, his hands cupping the soft fur and warm body, as he lifted it off the ground. Slowly, he pulled her up to his mouth, the twitching ceased as the white and brown fur touched his lips and his fangs dropped into the soft flesh and fur of the animal.

The intoxicating aroma of sage and carrot mingled with his depleted blood source, giving life to his chalky skin and dried muscles. He could feel his body come alive once more; refreshed from the source the rabbit had given him. As he drank from the young animal flashes of her life came to him. Running free and unhampered in the forest, the joy of knowing true freedom was the strongest emotion that Christian received. As the heart began to slow, Christian withdrew his fangs from the animal; the agent from his saliva ran into the fresh puncture wounds and started to heal the animal from within.

He gently placed the rabbit back down on the ground, petting its ears as a thank you for the gift it had given him. He stood as the rabbit took off down a different path, and turned towards his home. The return trip was quick as he speed by the many brick homes that littered the town that once was almost completely empty. _Many things have changed since I left in disgrace so many years ago. The town is still a little bit of the backwoods it was before, but it is not as lonesome as it once was._ He thought to himself as he neared the last house, the home of his great-great-nephew. Even after he disgraced his family by falling in love with Katherine, the woman who ironically did not know the true meaning of love, his family still accepted him, although with great shock.

*****

_The day before…_

Christian arrived at the house that his father built back in 1847; the once bright brick had begun to show their age. He wondered at the reception that his sister's great-grandchild would give him, and if he was right for returning to the place that left him cursed and in despair.

Walking up to the door, Christian knocked solidly three times before stepping back to wait on his nephew to answer. His pale white hands grasped at his jeans pockets, the nervousness he felt would not leave him in peace. As he watched, the thirty-five year old man came to the door and opened it. His dishwater blonde hair shone in the daylight sun, his dark topaz eyes took in the sight before him before a gasp escape his lips. "It cannot be." He whispered before fainting, Christian rushed to his side, grabbing the man in his arms before he fell even a foot.

Christian entered the home, feeling no barring from the building, carrying his nephew into the sitting room. Pale hands shook as he laid the man down upon the divan carefully touching his cheek. He could see his sister in the man's features, her ever-glowing complexion had not been forgotten in the genes, neither had her high cheekbones, the bones an aristocrat would have killed to have. Christian waited patiently beside the divan for his nephew to come to, not knowing really what to say. Obviously, despite his disgrace, Isabella had forgiven him and carried on his memory with her children and their children.

Slowly, the man's topaz eyes opened and turned towards the boy that sat on the floor next to him. He took in the icy blonde hair, the high cheekbones, and chocolate eyes of the eighteen year old boy that had seen more than could be imagined. The wisdom that those eyes held could be seen, as well as the sorrow that marred his complexion.

"Sono spiacente per la sorpresa voi gradisco questo, bambino, ma ci era qualcosa qui che lo denomina sede. So che ci è molto da rispondere a per; tuttavia, non posso dire perchè non potrei rimanere via poichè il vostro gran-gran-gran-nonno mi aveva chiesto a." Christian said quietly, his Italian deep and precise, his apology for the surprise of showing up and his plea for entry seeming so sad and filled with despair. "Please, child of my sister, let me stay here for a while disguised as your nephew and find what has lead me back home."

"Tenga sopra, per favore, il Christian, parli inglese, il mio italiano è molto arrugginito." The man replied in Italian, knowing that the boy before him needed some sense of connection, even though his Italian was rusty, before continuing in English. "I don't know why you have returned, Christian, but I know what you truly are. How does it that you can return to this house know how it killed your family when your death as a human broke two families apart?"

Christian hung his head in the shame he had not forgotten in the last 154 years he had roamed the earth for the witch that would free him. "I never meant for anyone to suffer, Katherine never told me of the great tragedy that turned her into the creature that she was, only was I too late to see her for what she truly was. Please, bambino, let me stay here and make amend to my family."

Giovanni looked at the desperation in Christian's eyes, but there was not just the desperation for family that he seen, but determination. "Christian, you must know that your sister never forgot you, just look around you. She placed your portrait upon the mantel as soon as she owned this home, not in sorrow, but in grace that one day you would find peace."

Christian looked around the room for the first time since entering his family's homestead. Upon the mantel was the painting his father had commissioned right before his sixteenth birthday. Pale chocolate eyes stared down from the blonde man; impeccable dressed, in that painting. Red streaks began to fall down his face; the tears of a vampire who had sworn never to cry again. The painting brought back memories, memories that he had been suppressing for too many years now. Even after all those years, the memory of the night he died still haunted him.

"Thank you, bambino, for allowing me to stay I will not give any harm or burden to you and your family or anyone else in this town." Christian's accented voice declared as he looked away from the painting. "May I please go to a room unoccupied?" He asked as he stood and walked to the window looking out onto the street.

Giovanni sat up from his relaxed position on the divan and walked over to Christian. Placing his hand upon the shoulder of the burdened man, Giovanni said softly. "You may have the room that has always belonged to you; no harm has been allowed to befall it since your departure." Christian turned his blood tear-stained face to the shorter man beside him, smiling softly, he nodded his thanks before walking away from the man that made him feel more at home than anywhere else he had been in the last hundred and fifty years.

*****

Christian rushed past the door to his family home, and vaulted up to the room that had been his longer than any other room had ever been. The open window blew the pale lace curtains softly as he came upon it. Entering softly, Christian's feet dropped to the floor of his room with no sound at all, and he stood straight as he looked around the darkened room.

The bed had been redone since his return, a pale cobalt comforter warmed the room from its bleak existence, the otherwise white and barren room. Walking to the cabinet that he stored his journals in, since taking them out of the storage trunk he had been carrying with him throughout the world, he took out the latest one. The leather cover read the year on front, the lettering majestic and regal, as the other books he had commissioned every other year that he finished a previous one. Taking the book with him, he walked over to the cherry oak desk that occupied the other wall of the room. Taking out the chair, he sat down at the desk, opening the journal to a blank page.**

* * *

**

**September 19, about 4:00 am**

**I made it here, but now I must find what brought me back to this place at this time. Nothing is as it once was, and I am at a loss at what to do next in finding the reason that my blood and body sang when passing this place. There has to be a reason that after my self-imposed exile ha, at the request of my own father, that I felt the need to return. Being back here drags up all the memories that I placed hidden in my mind. Especially of that night, the night that my blood ran free… I know that Katherine no longer exists in this world I made sure of that after I saw her kill her own father after she killed me. **

**I should have never had fallen in love with my father's friend's daughter. Katherine was beautiful, her ebony hair shone brightly in the summer sun, her sapphire eyes laughed with merriment whenever she looked upon me. How was I to know, that while she was sick with the pox that her father went searching for a healer, but a healer of a different sort had already found her. As she lay dying in her bed, her fourteen year old body slowly rotting away, that her maker would find her and ask her if she wanted to live, but live at the price of others lives.**

**He changed her that night, taking everything that she had to offer, and giving her eternal life in return. When her father returned, she was healed, told him that it was a miracle, and that's when she found me. For two years I courted her, thinking that she was just being shy and only wanting to meet after the sun had set. Being older than her, I knew I could not force her hand without dire consequences, I did not notice all the maidens that were disappearing or the men that just up and left, no, all I could see was her sapphire eyes. The night we were to announce our engagement she asked me to meet her by the windmill, I was so foolish, going blindly to her without telling anyone.**

**I remember when I got there; she sat upon a rock her sapphire eyes shone into mine as she heard my footsteps. The next thing that I remember she was upon me, her lips blood-red and teeth protruding out of her mouth. She soared into me, her mouth going straight for my neck, teeth ripping into my flesh, no care for the pain I felt. Warm, wet fluids dribbled down my skin, soaking my clothes as she devour me from within, taking everything my body had to offer. She stopped as my eyes fluttered shut, I could feel death was upon me. But even that was not her intent, she forced my unwilling lips open and copper filled my mouth. I must stop, I cannot do this again, and the witch promised that this would end.**

**I left after that night, after watching the horror on my family's face as I killed the woman, no the child, that I proclaimed to love in front of them. I spent many years feeding from anyone, but never to the morte ballare, the horrid dance of death, until that night, with her dying breathe she freed me from my never-ending night, but cursed me from ever feeding again with no thought or care. Yet, no matter how much the sun has given me a chance at normality. I still cannot find the one she said would be the ending of this existence for me.**

**Now, I am home, and there is much to discover in Point Pleasant since I left. There is a tang to the air here, as though there is something here that outweighs the rest of evil that plagued this place for so many years. Perhaps I shall finally get my reward, or perhaps I shall finally seek my end.****

* * *

**

Christian finished with flair as he dropped the pen beside the book. _How many times will I put myself through that torture before I stop writing of her death? Every year I write of her death, and every year I do not find the ending that the witch promised me._ Flashes of that night dance through his mind as the sun began her levitation through the lightened skies. As her heavenly rays flashed through his lace curtains, he wondered again if he was doing the right thing by going to this school that Giovanni had said that Christian must attend to maintain appearances.

He stood and walked away from the desk, heading to the wardrobe to pick clothes for the day planned ahead of him. Picking out an emerald polo shirt, he tore off the messy white t-shirt from the night before, and quickly got dressed. Heading down the stairs to where Giovanni sat at the kitchen table, Christian looked at him the question vivid in his eyes.

"You will do fine, Christian, do not worry so much." Giovanni said as he looked up from the newspaper. "Just wait and see, going through school again will not harm your memory or any person."

"What if there is clippings from the past?" Christian asked, worry deep within his voice. "I fear not for my memory, but for the memory of this family."

"No harm will come, trust in yourself and school will be no problem to you." replied Giovanni as he folded the newspaper.


End file.
